The Game
by turntechBirdhead
Summary: After a breakfast outing with America, England briefly remembers a time at a certain fast-food establishment. And then everything just sort of spirals into sex. PWP, Crackish, US/UK.
1. Remember That One Time?

**A/N: **Aaaanndddd I'm back again with another piece from DeviantART. Again, this is an old fic from around July as well that is still In-Progress. Half of chapter 3 is the only new addition to the story, and I'm too afraid to re-read Chapters 1 and 2 because they are probably so horrid, I don't even.

Title comes from a little "joke" between my girlfriend (can I still call her that even though we're taking a break from our relationship? Hmm.) and I that spurred from this story.

I hope some of you might enjoy this. :)

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America sighed contentedly before intertwining his fingers with England's.

"Oh man, that was the best breakfast I've had in a long time," The American nation mused, now swinging he and England's hands absently as they stood in front of the IHop establishment they'd just exited.

"It wasn't all that bad," England stated, looking off to the side, "I've had much worse."

America grinned before leaning over to give England a peck on cheek and replied, "Which means you enjoyed it, but are too stubborn to admit it."

The Briton blushed slightly before retorting, "Well, at least it wasn't that McDonald's rubbish."

"'Rubbish'", America scoffed, "Iggy, you LOVE McDonald's."

"Tch. I've told you before, and I'll tell you again; I hate—"

"The bathrooms are quite nice, aren't they, Arthur?" America whispered suggestively in England's ear.

The smaller nation blushed a dark shade of crimson.

_I honestly hoped that git had forgotten all about that…_

--

They'd been playing football.

Except _Bloody Git_ seemed to forget that _football_ is actually _soccer_ according to those over the Pond.

So _Sodding Wanker_ showed up at the field, dressed head to toe in that American "football" garb.

And when _The Hick_ realized—

"OHHHHH~, that 'football'…!"—

he had the decency, or lack-thereof, to strip down to nothing but those _extremely loose_, flashy American-flag boxers and actually _played_ with those on.

And he always seemed to kick the ball _so unnecessarily high_ in the air, giving England a very clear view…

Needless to say, one nation left the park _very_ flustered and unattended to, much to the Briton's chagrin.

So after the game, the nations both got into the American's truck, where—

"Oh cool, found some jeans!"

_'Why couldn't you've found those BEFORE the game, Dammit!! '_—

They then both drove to get something to eat—

"You'll LOVE this place, Iggy!"—

At McDonalds.

And so they _both_ (England did eat half a Big Mac, but he'll never affirm that accusation) ate the greasy American food at the fast food establishment America loved.

And while they were there, England, still shamefully hard, couldn't help but gaze at America the majority of the time.

The American nation was still shirtless; Bomber Jacket was worn, though, and was completely oblivious to England's stares.

But, alas, England could only keep his cool for only a short time.

The Briton quickly got up and grabbed America's jacket collar and pulled him hurriedly into the bathroom.

Despite America's confusion—

"Whoa! Iggy, where the hell are we going!?"—

England still bee-lined toward a stall, America still in tow, and silently noted with satisfaction that the restroom was deserted.

The smaller nation flung open a door before shoving America in first before entering as well and locking the stall.

"Iggy—"

England hurriedly kissed the other nation with a surprising amount of passion while slowly guiding America to sit before the Briton straddled the other's lap and broke the kiss.

America, in a daze; "Wow, Iggy, what—"

The shorter nation cut the other off by grasping America's hand and led it forcefully to the tent of his pants.

England moaned and began guiding the American's hand in circles at the buldge.

"_Help. Me._" England gasped.

America regained his senses and quickly complied.


	2. Good Times, Man, Good Times

**A/N: **If you've read Chapter 1 and are actually giving this story a chance_, I love you._

* * *

"A-_Ahh…!_"

America smirked.

"Gosh, Arthur; it sounds almost as if you want us to get caught…"

England, unable to form even a slightly dignified response ever since America had broken from his stupor and began creating merciless friction upon the Briton, answered the other Nation by wrapping his arms around America's neck and squeaked, "_No._"

America suppressed a shudder from England's hot breath in his ear and bantered;  
"'No,' as in you don't wanna do this anymore…?"

Teasing the other, America's hand strayed from its original purchase on England to the British Nation's hips where his left hand already resided on the parallel to keep England in place, America arched slightly to meet England's front and grinded furiously.

England gave a gasp and a short moan--

_America,ohgodohgodohgodohgod...!!_, England thought--

Or, you know, he _thought_ he thought, but ended up moaning, for thought naut be processed when he's got _America underneath him, grinding every which way on purchase he can get on England's clothed length..._--

and America moaned beside him.

A bit after they had switched to their new position for delicious passion, one of America's hands strayed again, this time from a side of England's hip back to England's groin where he'd unbuttoned and unzipped the other Nation's trousers before slipping his hand beneath the waistband of England's boxers.

England moaned loudly in need and all thoughts of the possibility that the two could be caught in the act at a _McDonald's restroom of all places_ vanished abruptly because it just felt _so good..._

England shifted his hips upward from America's lap and leaned forward more to create more room for America's hand as the American Nation stroked the other's length and England's breath came out in short gasps.

_I-I'm not going to last very long, now..._

As if reading his thoughts--

(Or perhaps England had voiced them again)--

America paused his hand and coaxed England's arms off from their hold around the American's neck.

"Wh--?" England began, confused as America stood from his seat.

"Turn around."

England did so as America got down before him on the tiled ground of the stall.

The American tilted his head slightly, innocently, and asked;

"Can I suck you off?"

England moaned in want--

"_Yes._"--

and America didn't waste any time and quickly pulled England's boxers down farther so they'd reach the knee and wouldn't be of a bother during the process, but ended up pooling around his ankles anyway, before America leaned in.

England quickly grasped at the American's hair, the golden locks twined in the British Nation's fingers, and brought his legs up to wrap around America's abdomen tightly, as if trying to bring the American Nation even closer to his length.

If England thought he wouldn't last long before; he most certainly wasn't going to last very long now.

England's jaw began to feel lax as he was brought closer and closer to release as America was doing _wonderful_ things with his tongue and oh, he didn't want this moment to end--

"A-A-Alfred..." He whimpered breathlessly, feeling a dangerous coiling brew inside him, "Alfred..."

"Al-!_Alfred...!_" England gasped before shutting his eyes tightly and releasing.

Momentarily, England sat there trying to regain his cerebral footing as America pulled away from his softening length.

America looked up at the spent Briton and smirked.

England caught his gaze and blushed a deep red.

"Git."

--

England blushed as he did in his memory of the infamous McDonalds outing and snapped back to reality to where America was chattering animatedly about it.

"And you _fell asleep_ after it, too!"

"I what!?" England turned to the other Nation, blushing even more than before, if possible.

"Oh yeah," America mused, "you're like, so old an' stuff so I tuckered you out because I'M AWESOME AND YOUNG AND A TOTAL SEX GOD so I had to carry you out of there and take you home so you could sleep~! Ahahaha~!"

"THAT'S NOT TRUE!" England fumed, even though, yeah, it was kind of... just a little... maybe all... true....

"At least I didn't leave you there, old man!" America gave out another laugh before putting his arm around England's shoulders and pulling him into a hug.

"Getoffame," England protested, muffled by America's jacket, so America didn't notice he'd even spoke.

America let go of the other after a moment and sigh happily.

"Let's go home Iggy~!" He trilled, beginning to make his way to the direction of the car, England trailing close behind.

"You know," England began to muse, "I don't think you got off last time."

"Eh~?" America turned mid-step, "Whatta ya talking about, Iggy?"

England strode up to America and grabbed his forearms and began pushing the other backward.

"Uh-uh-uh, Iggy? Why are you looking at me like that?" America looked behind him, then back at England, then back behind him as he was still being pushed by the Briton with a gleam in his eye, "Wh-- OH GOD YOU'RE GOING TO ATTACK ME AGAIN AREN'T YOU? DAMMIT, YOU HORNY OLD MAN--!!"

America quieted as his back came in contact with their car they were looking for in the vast parking lot.

"It wasn't fair to leave you hanging like that, Alfred," England murmured, voice husky, "I'll take care of you this time."

England grabbed America's jacket and brought him forward from the car enough so he could reach around and open the door to the back seat before shoving America in.

"Jeez, do ya hafta be so rough!?" America began, but England showed little attention to his words as pounced atop the other and kissed America hungrily.

After a bit of the kissing, America flipped their positions and was now onto of England.

"Why'd you do that?" England growled between another kiss.

"You were acting dominant. It was weird. Because you're all scrawny and stuff." That response which just made England angrier.

After America spoke, he pulled out of a kiss and abruptly got out of the car and closed the door before rounding over to the driver's seat.

"Why the hell did you get up!?" England demanded, sitting up in the back as the engine started.

America scoffed. "I'm not going to have sex in a parking lot! That's so disgusting!"

"But sex in a McDonalds is all fine and dandy!?"

"Uh-huh!"

England face-palmed. 


	3. Officer Aru And Who?

**A/N:** Now here's where you start to read something slightly more comprehendable.

I have no clue why Korea would be a police officer in the United States. No clue at all.

_

* * *

_

_Alfred, you should've known better._

America chided to himself nervously in his thoughts as he struggled to keep his eyes on the road before him instead of…

Really, he should've known better then to think that a horny England was just going to _sit_ there in the backseat like an innocent angel; no, rather, the British nation climbed into the shotgun seat.

_Nothing to worry about; he'd probably just felt so lonely all by himself--_

America gasped and clutched the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles turning white as he tried to gain control of himself.

_--Of course there was something to worry about!_

But America only realized this after England had crept up to him, leaning closely to the American nation's face, and after he teased England fondly with, "Whaddya gonna do, kiss me?" and what he got in return was a big smug smirk on the Briton's part, well, that's when he knew he was in trouble.

"A-Arthur, if we get caug-_HT_," his voice broke and he dared to close his eyes for a second in bliss," I'm just letting you know"—a pant—"_it'sallyourfault."_

With a light pop, England's mouth left the American's member, but he still lingered close to it as he chuckled and smirked once more as he peered up at America.

"When is it not?" The slightly husky reply.

America groaned.

And to make matters worse, England leaned over and gave a long lick from base to head.

"_Arthur." _A whimper.

With something of a bored expression, England continued his languid lapping as he lounged on the seats --mostly on the shotgun seat, a little of his upper-body upon America's seat—and America was quite surprised that he hadn't veered off the road yet.

However…

A siren.

They both froze up.

America gulped and looked out the side-view mirror.

Right behind them.

America slowly pulled over and England scrambled up away from the American nation's lap and over to his own seat, face a bright crimson as America hurried to put everything back in its place and zipped up his jeans while the officer made his way toward them.

America, not daring to look at the officer, pressed the button for the window to scroll down.

"Do you know why I pulled you over, aru?"

_Aru?_

Bewildered and incredibly relived America turned to the officer, "China?"

"Ah! America, aru!" The Chinese nation, surprised.

"Why the bloody hell are you a cop, China?" England asked, leaning over America with his hands planted on the edge of the American's seat.

"Uhm. Well, aru, Korea usually does this…"

America and England just stared at China.

"Korea?" They both dead-panned.

"Yes, aru. I've none the idea as of why he actually does this, but Korea had to go on an outing with Hong Kong and he asked for me to cover for him, aru," China explained.

…

…

"Ahem, uh… Anyways, aru, America, you were going roughly twenty miles over the speed limit"—

China missed the glance America gave at England and the British nation's bright red face when America did so –

"…But I'll just give you a warning this time. Don't do it again, aru."

America nodded quickly.

_Gosh, what a push-over._

"America, England," China nodded to the both of them dismissively and turned on his heel to retire back to -- Korea's? -- cop car.

Halfway there, however, the loudspeaker came on from the interior of the police car;

"_Yao~."_

China freezes up upon hearing an amplified husky Russian voice and a small giggle emitting from the loudspeaker of the car.

America and England, who still haven't drove away yet, are extremely amused.

"_Ah, Yao-- I desperately need you, officer~!"_

China bolts to the car as fast as he can to try and tame Russia;

"Aiyah! Ivan! Stop it, aru!"

America chuckles softly before pulling back into the street and continues on the way to his house.

A majority of the drive is made in silence, and when America stops in front of a red light, he takes the time to linger a bit at England.

England is silent, refusing to even looking at him, eyes trained to the road on the right through the glass of the window.

America gives a worried look before turning back to the now green light and continues their way home.

--

America sighs as they pull into the driveway. England is probably both mortified and completely angry with him, he reasons.

"Look, Iggy, I'm sorr-- MPH!"

America is cut short as England attacks his mouth, tongue plunging in and sweeping at the other's. It was a bit unpleasant for America at first what with England crashing against his mouth oh so quickly, but it got better.

_Much _better.

England is groping all over America as they are kissing, hands brushing against America's t-shirt-clad chest, going down, down--

"_Oh,"_ a moan is elicited from England's former colony, but is quickly drowned out by England's incessant kisses put upon his soft lips.

"I didn't... want to be a distraction again," England explains his aloof behaviour from before, although America never asked.

"_Mm-- _Are… we gonna do it in the car?" America asks breathlessly, breaking away a kiss. England's breathing is laboured as well when he responds; "…Whatever you wish."

As England palms him through his jeans, America almost decides to go with the car, but--

"B-bedroom," America says clumsily, England kissing him once more as he does so.

"But that's too far," England states, lips trailing to America's neck.

"Horny old man," America replies, smirking, "it's not that far away, it's not gonna kill you to wait one minute more for sex."

"Says you," England breathes, grounding his hips down onto America's.

"A-ah…" America begins, the clothed friction getting to him, "C-couch then."

England moans. "Fine, but _hurry._"

America is quick to respond, unlocking the car doors by button as England grudgingly lets off of him. England scrambles out so fast, America is momentarily bewildered before England begins the flurry of kisses once more.

The eventually made it to the living room-- _thank goodness the door was already unlocked--, _England's dress-shirt half unbuttoned and untucked from his trousers, America's beloved bomber jacket shed to lay on an armchair and they began to easy their way toward the couch, so close to it they finally fall--

"MAPLE!"

--Onto Canada who was sitting on the couch at the time.

The tangled mass known as America and England quickly retreat to the other end of the furniture.

_Canada knows, Canada knows…!_ America and England's thoughts reel as England grapples onto America, shirt half-off, tie forgotten, against America, who is shirtless and only clad in jeans.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry!!!" Canada apologizes profusely, face matching the same colour of his hoodie, "I had no idea that you two-- I-I-I-- Uh, Um-- I came here to visit America and ask him of something I had no idea that you two were planning to be romantically involved this afternoon it's just I thought it was really important and Alfred is my brother and-and I knew that if I called you'd probably didn't know my number or who I was again so I dropped by _and I am SO sorry--_"

America and England just stare, still mortified that Canada saw something like that of them, and barely listen to what Canada is rambling about. They eventually dispel from their stupor and England hushedly propositions with America.

"Can't we just screw on Henry?" He whispers, Canada unaware with his continued apology.

"What? No, he's my brother! I think." America replies, before thinking for a bit. "…Isn't his name Micheal?"

"--I always knew you and Arthur had a thing going on but I never thought I'd walk into it--"

"I've no idea, but I DO know that I need you _right. Now."_

America gulps before looking at his brother, Condo, who was still abusing run-on sentences, and tries to think of someway he can get England quickly and how to politely usher Komodo out.

"Hey, um, Martin…?"


End file.
